Waking Up, Part 1
by JChambers
Summary: Lara wakes up in a mental hospital, only to find that she's not Lara after all. (This is my first piece of fanfic)


**Waking Up (Part One)  
**_by Jeremy Chambers_

SCENE 1: The Pain  
  
The first thing Lara Croft noticed was the pain. Her head felt like someone had taken an aluminum bat to it -- repeatedly. Slowly, Lara tried to open her eyes. She quickly realized what a mistake that was -- the single bulb above the bed burned into her pupils and made her feel as though her head might just explode.

Gradually, Lara was able to open her eyes enough to notice her stark white surroundings. W_e're definitely not in Kansas anymore_, she thought to herself. Lara spotted a monitor beside the bed to her left, and heard its faint beeping noises. _I'm in a hospital_, she realized. _How did end up in a hospital?_ As if to answer her question, a voice arose from her right side. 

Welcome back, the calm voice said. We were afraid we had lost you. Lara turned slowly and realized that the voice coming from a doctor. According to his nametag, he was called Dr. Goodman.

Where am I? Lara asked faintly. 

You're at Ellenton HospitalEllenton _Psychiatric_ Hospital, to be exact, said Dr. Goodman. 

Lara's brain flew through the possible reasons for her presence in this place, but none of them made any sense to her.A _psychiatric_ hospital? Why in the worldam I here?" Lara tried to remember anything that might explain her presence here, but her memory was a jumbled mess. "How did I get here?

It'll be easier to explain if you can answer one simple question first, said Goodman. After a short pause, he stared directly into her eyes and asked, Do you know who you are?

That one I can handle," Lara replied. My name is Lara Croft. 

The doctor kept looking at her with emotionless eyes. Lara Croft? 

That's right. I'm the sole heir to the Croft family fortune, but I'm not exactly your typical little rich girl. I spend a good bit of my time in some unsavory places, Lara laughed. 

With that, Dr. Goodman stood up and walked to the other side of the bed. You have just answered your own question, he said. You are here at Ellenton because you believe that you actually_ are_ Lara Croft. There's no other way to say this, the doctor continued. "Lara Croft is a fictional character from a video game. The truth is that you are being treated for a mental imbalance. Specifically, I believe you are suffering from a severe case of delusion. 

Lara's mind reeled as the doctor spoke. 

But perhaps I'm not the best person to explain all of this to you, the doctor continued. It might be better coming from someone close to you – your father. 

Lara asked_. Buthe died when I was 12_, she thought. _I was there. I know I was there. Our plane crashed in the snow. I tried to save him, but I failed. _

The door leading to the hallway opened slowly, revealing an older man in an ordinary brown suit. His hair was slightly gray, and he was wearing bifocals. 

This is Mr. Hugh Crawford, your father, said Dr. Goodman. Perhaps the two of you should take a walk. 

SCENE 2: In The Garden

The girl who believed she was Lara Croft walked slowly in the garden with Hugh Crawford, the man claiming to be her father. Other patients strolled or sat among the flowers and small trees. It was a calm, peaceful setting, but the girl hardly noticed. 

I can't tell you how glad I am to have found you, the man said. I never thought I'd see you again after you 

What are you talking about? the girl pleaded. I don't understand any of this.

Then let me explain it to you, darling, the man said in a calm, gentle voice. Your real name is Leslie Crawford. You are my only daughter. The last time I saw you was twelve months ago. That was when you left our hometown to begin your modeling career in New York city. 

As the Hugh Crawford spoke, the girl understood his every word but could not comprehend any of them. 

It was not a successful career. Pretty soon you were broke. I got calls from creditors who were looking for you, Hugh continued. But I never heard from you. I sent private detectives into the city to find you, but all they ever turned up were scattered reports of you appearing in homeless shelters. As he spoke, Hugh Crawford handed the girl a stack of photographs. They gave me these, he said, almost apologetically. 

The girl took the photos and scanned them slowly. She could not believe what she was seeing. All of the pictures showed her in dirty, tattered clothes. She was sleeping. And she was definitely inside of a homeless shelter. 

I've never been there, she stammered. That's not me! It can't be me! 

Leslie it _is_ you, Hugh begged as he took her by the shoulders. You're a very, very sick girl right now. But we're going to get through this, darling. I swear to you we'll get through this. I'm not going to lose you again. 

But that's not me! she cried. You've got the wrong person! I'm Lara Croft! You're not my father! You can't be my father! 

With that, the girl collapsed onto the grass, sobbing. 

Leslie, please listen to me, Hugh pleaded as he knelt next to her. Then he gently brushed her hair back. If you still don't believe me, then take a look at these. He handed her another small stack of photographs. These photos showed the two of them together – at birthday parties, next to a Christmas tree, at a football game. The girl was trembling more as every photo revealed another part of her life. A life that she knew nothing about.

Without saying another word, Hugh handed the girl a stack of small cards. The first card was a driver's license with her face and the name Leslie Crawford. Next was a Social Security card for the same name. The rest of the stack contained credit cards, insurance cards, library cards, and voter registration cards – all with the name Leslie Crawford. The last card was actually a folded piece of paper. It was her birth certificate. 

You are Leslie Crawford, Hugh said softly. And Dr. Goodman can help you. 

SCENE 3: The First Therapy Session

Dr. Goodman's office was a spacious one, and it was decorated in expensive, modern furniture. On Dr. Goodman's desk sat a computer, notebooks, and numerous files. 

Leslie, as she now tried to think of herself, sat in a leather-lined chair. Dr. Goodman entered and closed the door behind him. 

Leslie, did your father help to explain things for you? Dr. Goodman asked. 

I guess, Leslie said softly. But I'm incredibly confused right now. I have all these memories of being Lara Croft, memories that seem so real. And I don't have any memories at all of this person named Leslie Crawford. I'm juststruggling with it all right now.

Let me show you something that might help, Dr. Goodman said as he turned on his computer. In a few seconds, a program had been booted up. It was a videogame. A game called _Tomb Raider_. 

What's that? Leslie asked.

It was your inspiration, said the doctor. More accurately, it was the inspiration for your delusion. Something, and we still don't know what, caused you to believe that you actually were this character from this game, Leslie. 

Leslie watched silently as the female character in the videogame, a buxom brunette wearing a green t-shirt and khaki shorts, ran around a labyrinth shooting her pistols and making acrobatic leap after acrobatic leap. 

As the character continued to run, Leslie realized that she recognized the place depicted in the game. I've been there before, she exclaimed. That's the tomb of Alamazzar in Egypt! 

There _is_ no tomb of Alamazzar, the doctor corrected her. It exists only in this videogame. Just like Lara Croft. She's a very popular character, actually. Just look in that box beside you.

Leslie lifted the lid off the box, and was shaken by its contents – Lara Croft candy bars; computer gaming magazines with digital pictures of Lara Croft; a Lara Croft Halloween costume. 

Answer me this, Dr. Goodman asked. What is the last thing you remember before waking up here in Ellenton?

Leslie struggled to recall anything that had occurred before. Slowly, a face came into her mind. I was fighting Lawson Bendix's henchmen, she said nervously. We were in Egypt. I was looking for 

As Leslie struggled to piece together the fragments of her memory, Dr. Goodman pointed to another character on the PC monitor. See this character right here in the game? That's your Lawson Bendix, Leslie.

Leslie's face dropped into her hands as the reality of her situation finally set in. There was no Lara Croft. Her name really was Leslie Crawford. Fighting back tears, Leslie raised her head to the doctor, So where have I been for the past year? 

Dr. Goodman reached into his desk drawer. We haven't pieced it all together yet, but we got several clues from these, he said. When his hand came out of the drawer, it was holding three tattered notebooks. 

My journals! Leslie exclaimed. 

Yes, your journals, Dr. Goodman confirmed. They were your only possession when a good Samaritan found you unconscious in an alley last week. Once we looked through these, we realized just how severe your delusion really was, Goodman continued. These journals are the work of a very disturbed mind, Leslie. You write about places that only exist in videogames, and you write as if you've actually been there. We later discovered that these journals contained a kind of code. For example, in several places you wrote about crossing the great ocean.' We realized that you were actually crossing the bridge into and out of Manhattan, as the photos from your father's private detectives can attest.

A single tear slid slowly down Leslie's face as she thought about her life, and how all of the things that she believed were nothing more than figments of a damaged imagination. 

I think we've had enough for today, Dr. Goodman concluded. Try to get some rest, if that's possible, and we'll continue tomorrow. And , Leslie, the doctor consoled. We _will _get through this.

SCENE 4: Leslie's Room

Leslie returned to her room in a daze. Nothing that she had been told made any sense. But at the same time it made perfect sense. How could she really believe that she was some globetrotting swashbuckler? It was a pretty silly idea, after all. And then there's that outfit. Who could honestly believe that a girl would run through dark caves and abandoned tombs in _that _getup?

Leslie decided to give her mind a rest. _Everything makes more sense after a hot bath_, she thought to herself. She entered the small bathroom that was connected to her bedroom and started running the water. When the tub was nearing its capacity, Leslie disrobed and stepped gingerly into the warm water. She immediately felt better. _Who needs a shrink when you've got a tub?_, she joked to herself. 

Leslie relaxed and let the warm water work its magic on her tired, aching body. She cupped her hands, filled them with the soothing liquid, and raised her hands to her face. She did this a few more times, as if she was trying to wash away the world in front of her. It wasn't working, but it felt good anyway. 

As Leslie was raising her hands to her face yet again, she suddenly felt as though she was not alone. She quickly covered herself, then turned around slowly. 

There, in the doorway between her bedroom and the bathroom, stood a hulking figure. He wore the normal outfit of one of the hospital's orderlies, but his was a few sizes larger than any she had seen. 

What are you doing in here? Leslie demanded. Get out of here. Right now!

The orderly took a step closer to the tub. His thick lips played with a tootpick that dangled on his lower lip. Now, now. Is that any way to talk to your best friend? 

What are you talking about? I don't even know who you are, Leslie trembled. 

But you will, replied the orderly. You n me ... we're gonna be close, honey. _Real_ close. 

With that, the orderly took another step closer to the tub. With his right hand, he removed the toothpick from his mouth and flung it across the bathroom. Then, with both hands, he started to unbuckle his belt. 

Leslie felt nauseous. She tried to raise her voice to scream, but her fear kept the sound from escaping her mouth. 

As the orderly came closer to the tub, Leslie closed her eyes. Then she braced herself and prepared to fight the approaching attacker. 

Just then, Leslie heard a terrible sound – it was the sound of steel on flesh, combined with the sound of bones cracking. Leslie opened her eyes quickly enough to see the orderly's massive body fall in a heap beside the tub. All Leslie could do was stare at the body and wonder why she had been spared. Her answer came when she noticed Dr. Goodman standing where the orderly had been. His face was full of anger. And in his right hand was a small steel pole. 

I can't apologize enough for Mr. Greene here, Dr. Goodman asked. Are you alright?

I'm fine, Leslie stammered. But I don't think I would have been if you hadn't gotten here. 

I'll make sure that Mr. Greene is no longer a problem, Dr. Goodman promised. He won't bother you again. I'm so sorry/

Dr. Goodman then removed a small walkie-talkie from his white trenchcoat. Davis and Whittaker – this is Goodman, he commanded. Get over here to room 128 and clear out Mr. Greene. Make sure he never enters this hospital again.

Dr. Goodman then turned back to Leslie. It's so hard to find good help these days, right? Then the doctor left, closing the bathroom door behind him. 

Leslie stepped out of the tub and threw on her robe. Within a few moments, the other orderlies had entered her room and removed the crumpled body of Mr. Greene. He groaned a bit as they lifted him. _GoodI hope it hurts like hell_, Leslie thought. 

After the orderlies left, Leslie found herself alone again with her thoughts. She walked into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. _Who the hell are you? _she wondered. 

SCENE 5: The Second Therapy Session 

The next day, Leslie was again in the office of Dr. Goodman. She was stretched out in the office's recliner while Dr. Goodman sat behind his desk and made notes about their discussion. 

There's one more thing I've been wondering about, Leslie asked. 

And what might that be? Dr. Goodman asked as he leaned towards her. 

When I woke up the other day, my head was killing me, she informed him. I felt like someone had tried to crack open my skull with a sledgehammer. What happened to me?

Dr. Goodman let out a soft sigh, then stood up and walked over to the window. He watched the other patients in the garden below, then answered. I've been waiting to talk to you about that, he said. I wanted to be sure you were ready.

asked a startled Leslie. What more could you possibly have to tell me? You've already proven that the entire life I knew before was all just some trick of my imagination. I thought that I was somebody important – I thought I was making a difference in the world. Now that I know the truth, I realize that I'm just some whacko girl who plays videogames too much. So, tell me, doctor. What on earth could you _possibly_ be waiting to tell me?!?!

How about this, Dr. Goodman said as turned towards her. You're wanted for the attempted murder of a New York city policeman.

Leslie gasped and fell back in the recliner. 

From what I can gather from your journals, and from talking to a few friends of mine in the NYPD, there's a certain New York officer named Lawrence Bentley. He's probably the one that you refer to as Lawson Bendix in your journals.

Leslie hung on Dr. Goodman's every word as he returned to his desk and removed a file. 

About 2 months ago, a store owner in Manhattan reported you for vagrancy, Dr. Goodman continued. Bentley was the cop who came to arrest you. According to your journals, though, he wanted more than just an arrest from you.

_Déjà vu_, thought Leslie. 

Fortunately for you, Officer Bentley was an older, out-of-shape desk cop, Dr. Goodman informed her. You beat him up pretty severely. He was in the hospital for three weeks. For the first few days, they didn't even know if he would make it or not.

But that doesn't explain why _I_ was the one hurting, said Leslie. 

A few days later, some of Bentley's buddies on the force tracked you down, the doctor told her. By the time they got finished with you, you were nearly comatose. I won't go into all the details of what was done, Leslie. Just trust me when I tell you that you don't want to know. A good Samaritan found you in an alleyway and called a hospital. The hospital called us, and we came to get you.

Leslie shuddered at the thought of the torment that she must have gone through – no wonder her mind had blocked out that event and all of the details surrounding it.

There's a warrant out for your arrest right now, Dr. Goodman said. In fact, I'm keeping you here against my better judgment because I think I can help you. But if you walk out the front door of this hospital, Leslie, every policeman in the country will be trying to finish the job that Bentley's buddies started.

That night, for the third night in a row, Leslie Crawford cried herself to sleep. 

SCENE 6: In The TV Room 

After a long, sleepless night, Leslie woke up and went to Dr. Goodman's office again. The door was partially opened, and she knocked on it gently to get the doctor's attention. 

Yes, Leslie? answered Dr. Goodman. 

In the last few days, she told him, my life has been disassembled and reassembled in ways that I don't know if I can handle. Can we take a break from our session today? I really need some more time to sort all of this out.

Of course, dear, said Dr. Goodman. I was about suggest the same thing myself. Feel free to wander the grounds, go to the TV room, stay in your room – whichever you prefer.

she replied. A little mindless television sounds like it might just hit the spot. 

With that, Leslie turned and walked towards the TV room on the North side of the hospital. She had passed by this room a few times, and had been wondering about her fellow patients. 

As she entered, she saw that there were only three other people in the room. Immediately, all of them stared at her. One of the patients, an older man, scowled and returned to the TV program he blamed Leslie for interrupting. The second, an older woman, stared at her with vacant, emotionless eyes. The third patient, a young girl sitting alone on the couch, simply smiled. 

_I guess I'll strike up a conversation with Miss Smiley Face_, Leslie thought, and she sat down on the couch next to the young girl. 

the girl said. I'm Casey. What are you in for?

Leslie laughed. I have a pretty vivid imagination, apparently, she said. How about you?

Casey's head drooped a bit as she pulled up one of her sleeves. There was a white bandage that encircled her wrist. Leslie noticed that Casey's other wrist had a smiliar bandage on it. I wasn't having much fun, she said sheepishly. 

Right now, I'm not either, Leslie laughed. 

Casey giggled for a second, then looked over Leslie's shoulder. Her laughter stopped immediately, and she inched away from Leslie on the couch. 

Leslie turned around to see what had frightened her. It was one of the orderlies -- Mr. Whittaker. He stood with his back against the wall, then addressed them. Has Ms. Casey here been bothering you, Ms. Crawford? asked Whittaker. 

No, not at all, Leslie smiled. We've just been chatting.

I wouldn't waste much time with her, Whittaker said, making the suggestion sound more like a warning. She's been known to tell a few tall tales now and then.

Casey inched further away from Leslie, then curled up into a fetal position on the far side of the couch. _What has this guy done to you_, Leslie thought as she watched the terrified young girl. 

In fact, Whittaker said, I think I'll take her back to her room anyway. I don't want her to start botherin' anyone.

Leslie thought that she could explain to Whittaker that the girl was not a problem No, really, she's fine. I just

In a quick motion, Whittaker grabbed Casey by the and jerked her off of the couch. Leslie sat in stunned silence. 

I said we're going, Whittaker told her. Leslie looked at Casey as she cowered next to Whittaker. Casey's eyes met Leslie's for a brief second, then darted towards the far end of the couch. 

C'mon Miss Casey, Whittaker urged as he began to drag Casey away. Again, Casey stared into Leslie's eyes and then redirected her stare to the far end of the couch. Within a few seconds, both Whittaker and Casey were gone.  Leslie sat on the couch, still disbelieving what she had just seen. 

_She was trying to tell me something_, Leslie realized. She peeked down the hall to make sure that Whittaker was gone, then slid over to the opposite end of the couch. She ran her hands across the pillows and cushions, wondering what Casey had wanted her to see. As her left hand swept under one of the pillows, she felt a piece of paper brush gently past her hand. 

Leslie grabbed the piece of paper and slid it out from under the cushion. There was writing on the paper – Casey had left a note behind for her. Leslie slowly opened the scrap of paper and read Casey's scrawled handwriting. 

The note was short and simple. It said, Run Lara! Before it's too late!!!

END OF PART ONE

_If you would like to read Part 2, either Review this story or email me at: [critic7@aol.com][1] _

   [1]: mailto:critic7@aol.com



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